


Bet Me

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reno's smart mouth leads him to accept a bet that he really shouldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salamander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/gifts).



The four of them might be stuck watching over a spoilt brat, but poker night was sacred: it stopped for no man. It helped that even while being held under 'house arrest' in Junon, Rufus was still living within a huge, luxuriously-appointed apartment. Reno, Rude, Rod and Cass set up at the dining table, even though three of them were currently off duty. Rufus was keeping to himself, shut up in the study with papers or books or something equally boring, but they were used to that. The ShinRa heir didn't want to socialise with lowly Turks and, Reno thought with a smirk, the Turks didn't really want to socialise with him.

"Is he all tucked up for the night?" he asked mockingly as Cass emerged from the study. It was her shift, which meant that she had to stay relatively sober. Reno felt that was a pity, because Cass was an entertaining drunk.

"I don't think he'll be going anywhere for the foreseeable future," Cass said coolly, giving him an unamused look. "And I'm sure he's quite capable of tucking himself in when the time comes."

"You should have asked him to join us," Rod chimed in. "Can always use another player."

"Do you think he knows how to play poker?"

Rod grinned at him. "Better for us if he doesn't."

Reno laughed. "Could get rich pretty damned quick playing against him. Not everybody has that much gil to throw in the pot."

"I would guess that if he doesn't know how to play, he'd pick it up quite fast, and then you'd be regretting it," Rude said quietly.

"Whaddya mean?"

"You've seen some of those reports Rufus deals with. He is very good with numbers."

Looked at that way... Reno frowned. "Little fucker would probably scalp us. Shit, no, he's not allowed to play."

Cass sighed. "That's fine, because I didn't ask him. Now, can we get on with it?"

They began to play and, because it went hand in hand with poker night, to drink. With the alcohol flowing freely, and the money on the table changing hands with increasing frequency, the trash talk came out. Insults flew, along with embarrassing stories about missions gone wrong and vicious gossip about the executives they were often tasked with guarding. As far as Reno was concerned, this was the real reason for being here. Excellent opportunities for blackmail aside, there was nothing quite like kicking back with a few drinks and mocking their often dangerous job. Being a Turk might be serious business, but that didn't mean that they never enjoyed it.

And while the game was an excuse, they all had money riding on it. Rod was the first to bow out, his stake gone. Reno was holding his own, but barely. The real competition was between Cass, who had the benefit of being sober, and Rude, whom most people found completely unreadable. Unfortunately, his fellow Turks knew him better than most people.

With nothing better to do, Rod leaned back in his chair, and fiddled with a half-empty glass. "I wonder if he's bored yet."

"Who?"

"Rufus."

Reno snorted. "You seen that shit he reads? Makes the paperwork we gotta fill out look simple. 'Course he's bored."

"Maybe he likes that stuff."

"Fine. He's not bored, 'cos he's boring."

"Anyway, not what I was talking about. He's barely gone anywhere since we've been here. Not allowed to. That must be boring."

"_I'm_ bored." Reno scowled at his cards. He had enough alcohol in his system that his poker face – in his case, a cocky smirk that didn't look much different from his usual expression – had slipped. Cass had dealt this one, and he was secretly sure that she had some method of cheating, even though he'd never caught her at it. It was the only explanation for his getting so many shit cards in one hand.

"I always heard he was supposed to be some kind of playboy. Lots of women, that kind of thing."

"We could always order up a few," Reno perked up. "In the interest of keeping Rufus from getting bored." And a few extras for them, too.

"No." Cass gave him a flat look. "I am not watching you guys paw hookers while I'm sober."

"We could paw y-" Rod began.

"No."

Rod flinched back from that one. Reno laughed. "You know you ain't ever getting any of that, _Rod_ney."

"'S not my name, Reno."

"Sure, _Rod_ney," Reno smirked.

"Anyway," Rod said loudly, "I heard that he usually had a different woman every night of the week."

"Who?"

"_Rufus_." Rod gave a him a disgusted look that told him to keep up with the conversation.

Reno ignored him. He discarded a two, picked up the card Cass dealt him in exchange, and tried not to curse. "So? How old is he, anyway?"

"Seventeen," Rude informed them.

Reno smirked. "He's not a playboy, Rod. He's a teenager. He'll probably stick his dick in anything that holds still long enough. And 'cos he's rich, plenty of women are happy to let him do it."

"He's not bad looking," Cass opined. "And he has better manners than you lot. That has to add to his appeal."

"Gil," Reno said succinctly. "Lots of it. How do you think Old Man Shinra gets laid? You're not gonna tell me that it's his looks and charm."

Cass winced. "I didn't need that mental image, thank you." It was a standing rule that no female Turks be assigned to the President's detail. In part it was because the President didn't think females were capable of fighting, and if that were the only reason they didn't get the assignment, then the female Turks would have been eager to show him just how wrong he was. But a few of the older Turks remembered when he was assigned female Turks – it had been thought that they would be more unobtrusive as bodyguards - and the complaints about sexual harassment that resulted. Among the many ideas President Shinra seemed to have trouble understanding was the perils of groping attractive women who were also armed and dangerous. And even the male Turks disliked those occasions where they were stuck watching the fat old man have sex.

Reno grimaced apologetically. He'd had that dubious pleasure, and was just grateful that his attitude meant he'd never been assigned it more than once. And now he also had that image stuck in his head, which was far more traumatic than most things he'd done as a Turk. He took another mouthful of whiskey, because in the absence of bleach for his brain, he figured that was the next best thing.

"Anyway, how many weeks has Rufus been stuck here, now?"

Reno frowned. "Six. No, seven."

"Eight and a half," Rude corrected.

"Really?" No wonder Reno was bored.

"Yes."

"Damn. His balls must be a really pretty shade of blue by now."

"Contrary to what men seem to think, your dick won't shrivel up and fall off from lack of use," Cass said disgustedly.

"I hear dicks shrivel pretty fast when you look at 'em, Cassandra," Reno retorted.

"Only the small ones. Wanna show me yours?"

"You can't handle mine."

"Not without tweezers and a microscope."

Reno began fumbling with his belt. "I'll show you -"

Rude put a hand on his arm. "Spare us."

"You heard what she said," Reno whined.

"And you're so insecure about the size of your dick you have to whip it out?" Rude gave him a flat look which communicated itself quite well, even through the dark lenses of his shades.

"Well, when you put it like that," Reno said sulkily. He gave Cass a superior look. "I know my dick's bigger than the one you strap on when you get bored, anyway."

Cass laughed. "You keep telling yourself that. And if you ever want to play with my eight inches, I'll be happy to lend it to you."

"Nah, I wouldn't want to get some before Rod does."

"Hey! Just because you'll fuck anything -"

"I suggest you think about what you're saying before you finish that sentence," Cass said sweetly. "You're not a bad partner, and I'd hate to have to shoot you when I've just got you broken in."

Reno cracked up. "Broken in! I guess you've already played with her strap-on, then."

"Shut up, Reno, or I'll shoot you, instead."

For a few minutes, it was quiet around the table, although there were periodic snickers from Reno. At least until Rude called, and Cass raked in the pot. Only a handful of chips still remained in front of him, and they were unlikely to see him through the next hand. So he withdrew, and poured himself another drink in preparation for watching Rude and Cass square off against each other.

With only the two of them still in, the game-play grew a little more serious. Eyeing the stacks of poker chips, Reno guessed that Cass was still a little ahead at this point, and she had the advantage of being completely sober. And her mood was just a little on the mean side, so Rude was probably going down. But not without a fight.

Reno took a mouthful of whiskey and savoured the burn as it slid down his throat. Then he spoke. "Maybe you should offer Rufus the use of your plastic dick."

"Silicone."

"What?"

Cass smirked at him. "It's made of silicone. Gives it a more life-like feel."

"I don't need to know this," Rude muttered.

"Whatever. But I bet, teenage hormones and all that, he'd probably fuck just about anything by now. You could expand his horizons a little."

"Bet he's not desperate enough to tap your scrawny ass," Rod taunted him.

Reno bristled. Just because Rod wasn't getting any – and that was his own fault for getting hung up on Cass, who was not only his partner but also hadn't dated anyone since her last spectacular break-up more than a year ago. Unless that rumour about her and one of the secretaries from Personnel was true, which would just mean Rod was even _less_ likely to score any time soon. "You're just jealous 'cos your ass ain't this hot," he retorted.

"Not all of us like to bend over and take it, Reno. And I don't think bony asses are considered attractive."

"My ass is not bony! And I could have him if I wanted him!" Reno glared at Rod, ignoring the little voice of warning in the back of his head that said maybe he should shut up now. It sounded a bit like Rude, but the real Rude wasn't saying anything, so Reno figured he was still good.

"Prove it, then." Rod smirked.

"I will! Uh..." The little voice was yelling at him now, and Reno blinked, trying to figure out what he'd just agreed to.

Beside him, the real Rude sighed. "At least, don't do it for free."

"Do what?"

"Sleep with Rufus."

"I'm not a _whore_ – Oh, wait." Reno scowled. He had just said that he'd sleep with Rufus, hadn't he? Well, not sleep so much as - "Too damned right I'm not doing it for free. What will you bet me?"

"Hold on a second," Cass said. "Let me get this straight. You won't have sex with Rufus if Rufus pays you for it, but you'll do it if _Rod_ pays you for it?"

"It's not payment for sex," Reno insisted. "It's a bet."

"Just checking." Cass looked at Rod. "You better make this good, Rod."

"Um, 100 gil?"

"I'm not that cheap!" Reno objected. A figure that low was insulting, and they all knew it.

"250," Rude said. "Each."

"I'm not involved in this," Cass insisted, but she agreed when Rude gave her a look. "Fine. I'll put in 250 if you two do as well."

"Agreed."

"You, too, partner?" Reno turned accusing eyes on Rude. Partners were supposed to back each other up.

"I'm not really betting on whether or not you can get Rufus to fuck you," Rude said, pulling out his wallet. "As I see it, what I'm betting on is that you won't admit what a stupid idea this is before you try and go through with it." He paused. "And it's stupid because I don't think Rufus is going to say yes."

"Hey!"

"Fine, 250 gil each says Reno can't get Rufus to fuck him." Rod tossed his share on the table. "And now I am dead broke. If I starve in the next week, it's all Reno's fault." He brightened. "Of course, he has to win to collect. And if he loses, I'm flush."

"Your lack of faith in my amazing powers of seduction really hurts." Only mildly annoyed, Reno fished another bottle out from stash beside the table, and checked that it was still unopened. "And who says he's gonna be fucking me? He's practically a kid. Maybe I'll be fucking him." Rufus was a teenager, and Reno stuck by what he'd said earlier: he'd probably fuck anything that held still long enough. Although he might not be the gender that Rufus usually went for, Reno knew he wasn't unattractive, and with a little liquid courage, the kid would probably be happy to indulge in a little experimentation. And it wasn't like Rufus was hard on the eyes, either. He could do this.

"He's a Shinra," Rude said flatly.

Rod smirked. "You top, I'll double it."

Reno pushed his chair back and stood. "I," he said, spreading his arms in a grand gesture, bottle still in one hand, "shall prove you all wrong. And then you'll see." He wavered slightly, then straightened and walked with careful, deliberate steps towards the study.

"Reno?" Cass called behind him.

Reno turned. Although the room had been bit wobbly when he first stood up, it seemed to be settling now. He hadn't had that much – yet. Just enough to be buzzed, and to accept stupid bets. But he wasn't going to back out now. "What?"

"You sure you don't want to take some protection?"

He blinked. "It's in my wallet." Reno patted his pocket.

"Actually," Cass said, "I was referring to the fact that Rufus is supposed to be straight, and he's pretty handy with a shotgun."

* * *

Reno hesitated before knocking on the study door. He blamed Cass for his apprehension, and the alcohol for the fact that he had actually considered going back to his quarters and getting his vest. As it was, he'd gone back for lube, because not everybody kept it in the desk drawer. But he'd talked himself out of the vest, if only because he'd feel pretty stupid wearing it when he was planning to seduce somebody.

"Come in."

Reno pushed the door open and peeked around the edge. Rufus was sitting behind his desk, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He looked toward the door with an expression of irritation, which wasn't an auspicious start. "Well?" he demanded.

Reno pretended to be surprised. "You're still working this late?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

Reno wandered into the room, bottle still dangling from the fingers of one hand, and looked around before making himself comfortable on the sofa. Rufus watched him, the frown growing until there was a noticeable crease between his eyebrows.

"You and your compatriots have already taken over the dining room for your drunken games; must you invade my study, too?" The words were snappish, which surprised Reno. They'd been watching Rufus for weeks, but the ShinRa heir mostly ignored them. He'd never said anything about their poker games, and never given any indication that he was the least bit bothered by the constant surveillance. He treated them as if they were slightly intelligent furniture. It was one of those things that let Reno write him off as an arrogant prick. Now, he stopped to consider just how annoying it must be to be restricted like this, when Rufus was used to doing whatever he liked, and wielding a great deal of authority in the process.

Of course, doing whatever he liked had included helping anti-ShinRa terrorists, so maybe Reno's sympathy had its limits. AVALANCHE had caused the Turks a lot of trouble.

"I'm not invading," Reno explained. "I came to keep you company. And I bought refreshments." He held up the bottle in illustration.

"I'm working."

"It's after nine. Normal people finished work hours ago. Come and have a drink." Despite the sloppy grin he wore, Reno was expecting more arguments and mentally preparing for them. He was surprised when Rufus glanced at the papers he held and sighed, tossing them down on the desk's surface. But then, maybe eight weeks of house arrest was long enough to wear anybody down.

"Very well. But I'm not drinking whatever cheap rot-gut you've got there." Standing, Rufus crossed over to a cabinet that proved to be a concealed bar. He removed a bottle and two glasses, then sat down in the armchair across from Reno, placing them on the coffee-table.

Reno's eyes widened. "Is that Junon Black Label?"

"'82 Special Reserve."

"Marry me."

Rufus's eyebrows shot up. "You're not my type, and you only want me for my liquor cabinet," he retorted.

Reno laughed, reluctantly impressed. Maybe Rufus wasn't so boring after all. "If you're waiting for someone who wants you for your charming personality, I'd resign yourself to staying single."

Rufus narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I shall drink this by myself."

"No, don't do that! People who drink alone are pathetic, and you wouldn't want that, would you? Really, I'm doing you a favour."

"Out of the kindness of your heart, no doubt." Rufus poured amber liquid into one of the glasses, then hesitated over the second. Reno whimpered. The bottle tilted, and alcohol splashed into the glass below. Rufus smirked, and pushed the glass across the table with the tip of one finger.

Reno picked it up, and admired the way the whiskey caught the light, golden sparks trapped in amber. Then he took a sip, slow, careful, felt it slide down his throat like silk. This wasn't like the stuff that he bought for himself, and the heat of its passing licked its way back up inside him after several long moments, a pleasant, lingering warmth rather than a fierce burn.

Opening his eyes, he saw Rufus, still looking at him with that cocky smirk. Reno decided that it was a very annoying sort of expression; no wonder he pissed so many people off. But he still had a glass of some of the best whiskey ever brewed in his hand, and was inclined to be charitable towards the one who'd provided it. It was just like Rufus to one-up Reno's peace offering. Only the best for a Shinra.

"Aren't you going to drink that?" Reno nodded towards the glass still on the table.

Rufus picked it up and leaned back in his own chair. Reno watched as he tossed half of it back without hesitating, thinking that the amber tones of the whiskey weren't a bad match for Rufus's hair, right down to the golden highlights. He might be doing this because of a bet, but Rufus wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, and so far, he'd been more interesting than Reno had expected. Thinking about it, Reno decided what he knew of Rufus was more than a little contradictory. There was the spoiled ShinRa heir that the media loved, a playboy with a different woman for every night of the week, but that image didn't really fit with the young executive who could spend hours pouring over paperwork long after anybody else would have thrown in the towel for the day. It _could_ possibly be stretched to include funding terrorists who struck at his own father's company – impatience, perhaps? Wanting to inherit a little sooner? - but not so much the fact that he apparently wielded a shotgun with no small amount of skill. Reno had encountered wealthy brats before, and most of them tended towards the attitude that work was something other people did. While they would be more than happy to order violence be committed, carrying it out themselves was too much like soiling their hands with coarse labour. Dirty work was what the reason that people like Reno existed.

After a moment, Reno realised he actually liked the fact that Rufus could possibly blow a hole in him if he pissed him off. Rude would probably have something to say about that.

…And Rude was betting against him this evening, so Reno didn't really care. He took another mouthful, and decided to ask. "Why do you have a shotgun?"

"To shoot annoying Turks who invade my privacy. That's why I keep it under my desk."

"No, really."

Rufus thought a moment. "It's messy. I know that sounds foolish, but some things should be messy, and violence is one of them."

Reno nodded. "And why don't you just hire people to do your shooting like your father does?"

"Because when people shoot at _me_, I want to be able to shoot back."

"Huh." Reno drank again, then realised his glass was empty. He leaned forward and poured himself another. Rufus held out his own glass to be topped up.

Several glasses later, they were both considerably more relaxed, so Reno asked the other question that was bothering him. "Why did you get involved with AVALANCHE? 'Cos I know you don't buy that hippy, tree-hugging bullshit they spout."

Rufus grinned. Reno took it as a sign the alcohol was getting to him, too, because it was one of the most honest expressions he'd ever seen on the kid's face. "You don't think I want to save the planet from ShinRa's blatant exploitation of its resources?"

Reno snorted. "Sure, and you save helpless puppies from drowning, too. No, you were getting something out of it, I'm just not sure what. After all, they were attacking ShinRa, and it's going to be your company someday. Doesn't make sense that you'd want to blow the shit out of your own inheritance."

"It's not mine yet," Rufus pointed out.

"And if you wanted to get your inheritance faster, the smart thing to do would be hire an assassin, not fund terrorists who're going after the wrong target."

"Maybe I just hate my father," Rufus said quietly.

Reno looked at him. Rufus wasn't looking back; instead, he stared down at the half-inch of liquid in the bottom of his glass, swirling it about. The whole AVALANCHE thing had been a mess, and one that still wasn't resolved. It had cost the Turks a fair bit in time and manpower, and yeah, they'd had casualties. But Reno still remembered Old Man ShinRa's fit of apoplexy when he realised that his son and heir had been helping them with both money and information. "That I can believe."

"Is that why you came here tonight?" Rufus asked. He met Reno's gaze, his eyes suddenly cold. "Because you wanted to ask me about AVALANCHE?"

In a split second, Reno made a decision. "No, I came in here because I made a bet." Honesty might piss Rufus off, but it seemed unlikely to get him shot.

"What? That you could get me drunk?" Rufus blinked at him.

"That I could get you to have sex with me, actually."

It was a good thing there was barely any whiskey left in Rufus's glass, because that way it didn't spill when he lurched upright. "You _what!?_"

"One of the other Turks bet that I couldn't get you to have sex with me, even though the only fun you've had these past few weeks is probably with your own right hand." And the longer it took Rufus to make a break towards the desk and the shotgun he – purportedly – kept there, the safer Reno figured he was. Besides, shooting him would require Rufus to get over his shock. "The alcohol was so that you were in a good mood when I asked."

Rufus's mouth opened and shut a few times, before he managed to say anything. "But I like women."

"I believe the idea was that at this point, you'd be desperate enough to fuck anything."

Rufus scowled. "I am _not_ desperate," he muttered.

"Good," Reno said, "because that would be really insulting to me. So, what do you think?"

"I think I like women," Rufus repeated. "I don't fuck men."

"It's not all that different. Except for, you know, where it is." Reno waved a hand in the vague direction of his crotch. He was rather enjoying this, because Rufus looked so confused by it all. Young and innocent and unsure of himself, which made Reno feel more than a little predatory. For the first time, Rufus looked like a teenage boy, the image of the young executive slipping completely. Reno leaned forward a little, watching Rufus intently.

And then something shifted. Rufus met his gaze, and his eyes hardened. The brief look of innocence vanished as if it had never been, and Reno was looking at somebody who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

"Convince me."

"What?" Reno asked, momentarily thrown.

Rufus's lips curved, and somehow it held the same threat as if he'd bared his teeth. "You want me to fuck you to win your bet. Like I said, I prefer women. So convince me." He leaned back in his chair, parted his legs. "Convince me that I want to fuck you."

His meaning was clear. Reno wondered what had changed, why Rufus had suddenly, abruptly, reclaimed control of the situation, but he didn't really care. The Rufus who was sitting across from him was dangerous, a man who could and would shoot him for some offence or another, and just the thought had Reno's dick hardening in his pants. He liked women, too, but there was a reason he sometimes preferred men. No woman ever made him react quite like this.

Reno didn't stand. He slid off the sofa and onto his knees, slunk around the coffee-table in something that was too boneless to be a crawl, and settled himself between Rufus's parted legs. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips as he reached out to undo Rufus's belt and unfasten his pants, but he never dropped his eyes, even as he bent to take warm flesh into his mouth.

He tasted salt and musk and something that defied description, something that Reno thought of simply as 'male'. The head of Rufus's cock felt heavy and full against Reno's tongue, the shaft firming under the ministrations of his hands and mouth. He wrapped his lips around it and let himself sink downwards, sucking as he pulled back up, stopping to dip his tongue into the slit at the top, then repeating the action. Rufus made some small sound, eyes closing, and Reno answered it with a soft hum of his own, bobbing his head up and down with increasing speed. The entire time, he kept his eyes rolled upwards, watching Rufus for his reaction.

It had felt almost like the breaking of a tangible connection when Rufus closed his eyes, but it was obvious he still held onto some degree of control. His jaw clenched, stifling any sounds that might have escaped, and Reno counted it as a victory when Rufus opened his mouth just long enough to wet dry lips, an action that made him briefly picture a reversal of roles. He moaned around the flesh in his mouth, watched Rufus's face go momentarily slack in pleasure. Then fingers were clutching at his hair, tugging him back.

"Enough," Rufus said, and the words were more than a little breathless. "I believe the bet was about me fucking you, not you sucking me off."

"I can do both," Reno pointed out, panting slightly. "You're young enough to recover quickly." And he wanted to see that again, the moment where control slipped from Rufus, lost in pleasure.

Perhaps Rufus saw something of that in his face, because his expression hardened. "No. You're wearing too many clothes. Do something about that."

Reno sighed, but he stood, taking himself away from temptation. If he did suck Rufus off, there was certainly nothing to stop him from changing his mind about the other side of things, even if he seemed to be over any qualms he had about sex with another man. Shrugging out of his jacket, Reno paused to remove a slender tube from one pocket. Pointedly, he placed it down on the coffee-table, the metal tube hitting the wooden surface with a slight click. He put his jacket down beside it, then began to unbutton his shirt.

There was something a little flattering in the way Rufus watched him undress. Hungry, intent as Reno stripped at his order. He shifted slightly in his chair when Reno paused again, this time to fetch a small foil packet from his pants pocket. Then Reno was pushing them down, baring himself to those eyes. Reno was already hard, his cock jutting proudly from a nest of curls that, contrary to most people's expectations, were actually red. If he was going to have any sudden misgivings, Reno knew, it would probably be now, but while Rufus's gaze caught on his erection, lingering there for a long moment, there was still no hesitation in it when he looked up and said, "Come here."

Reno climbed onto the chair, straddling his lap and was surprised when Rufus caught him around the back of the neck, dragging him forward to meet his lips. There was nothing reserved or controlled about that kiss; he felt as though he were being swallowed whole, claimed as Rufus's tongue explored every corner of his mouth, Reno wondered if Rufus could taste himself there, and once again regretted that he hadn't been able to take his earlier attentions to their natural conclusion. But Rufus was in control, and so far that was proving to be not entirely objectionable.

Fumbling, Reno's hands found fabric, the tie that Rufus wore. His fingers tugged it free, then went to work on the buttons beneath. There were more of them than he expected; Rufus wore multiple layers, a vest over his shirt and a jacket over them both, but finally fingers brushed against warm skin. And as if that was a signal, Rufus pushed him back, breaking their kiss.

"You need to prepare yourself. Do it."

Reno blinked at him, then his words sank in. He glanced back at the coffee-table, and reluctantly decided he couldn't lean back and grab the lube without risking serious injury if he fell. He stood long enough to grab the tube and the foil packet beside it, then climbed back onto Rufus's lap. A minor defiance, he tore open the foil first, sliding the thin layer of latex down over Rufus's cock, and smirked a little at the hiss of breath the action caused. Then he turned his attention to the tube, popped the cap open and squeezed clear gel onto two of his fingers.

He was convinced that this particular order was prompted, in part, by the fact that Rufus was uncertain over precisely what to do at this point. But as he reached behind himself, he had to admit there was something fucking hot about preparing himself while his soon-to-be-lover watched. He sucked in a breath as cool slickness touched skin that was exquisitely sensitive, saw Rufus swallow in response. He caught one lip between his teeth as he pushed a finger inwards, moved it about to spread the gel, then slid the second in beside it. He scissored them apart, stretching tight muscles and coaxing them to open for him. Fingers brushed over his most sensitive spot, and he tried to avoid it, but another hand clasped itself over the top of his, pushing his fingers further in.

Reno cried out as the movement made them slide, hard, over his prostate. He could feel Rufus's hand over his, feel long fingers moving down to where his own entered his body, feel them circle the slick entrance and nudge at it. A third finger slid in, but this time it didn't belong to Reno.

"So warm inside," Rufus murmured as he indulged his curiosity. Reno moaned softly as the finger slipped between his, looking for the reaction he'd caused before.

"Nnngh!"

Satisfied, Rufus pulled their fingers away. "Fuck me."

Panting softly, Reno reached for Rufus's cock, lifted himself up on his knees and tried to take him in. But it was an awkward angle, as the arms of the chair were in the way and stopped Reno from getting a position that was properly astride Rufus's lap; while the head went in easily enough, it slid back out again, too, and Rufus gave a muttered curse. He reached down to the side of the chair, and Reno lost his balance, thrown forward as the seat suddenly reclined. But he immediately saw what Rufus intended, and settled himself again. This time, when Reno sank down it was to take Rufus all the way inside him, hard flesh stretching him further, filling him up.

For a long moment, the only sound was the soft whisper of their breath, ragged and uneven.

Then Reno moved.

He kept it slow at first, growing accustomed to the feel of Rufus's cock inside him, but his movements gradually increased in speed. Before long, Rufus's hips were rising to meet him, skin slapping against skin with loud, wet sounds as their joining grew more urgent. Reno could still feel the brush of fabric against his legs, a reminder that Rufus hadn't bother to undress for this, just pushed his pants a little further down his thighs, and while his fingers splayed against a warm chest, they wormed their way under an open shirt to do so. But it was the feel of hands gripping his hips, the feel of flesh moving inside him, driving into him that consumed his attention, that finally pushed him over. He arched, muscles contracting, and felt Rufus jerk beneath him as he reached his own completion.

Reno slumped forward.

"This is rather... messy," Rufus muttered.

"Mmm," Reno hummed in reply. "The best things are, remember? Or something like that."

Rufus sighed. Apparently, he was quicker to return to normal after sex, while Reno just wanted to bask a little while longer in the languorous feeling that came with sexual satiation. "Reno, I'm sticky. Get up, and pass me your shirt."

Reno blamed the sex on the fact that he did so before realising exactly what Rufus wanted his shirt for. "Hey!"

"You made the mess, so it's only right that your shirt clean it up," Rufus pointed out. "And you've now won your bet, so I suggest you stop complaining."

That was true. Reno looked down at Rufus, still lying back in the chair, shirt gaping and pants still unfastened. He looked thoroughly debauched, and it was a very nice picture. "You know, Ro- One of the guys offered to double it if you let me top."

Rufus laughed, a sound of genuine amusement, and Reno grinned a little in response. But his answer was flat and unequivocal. "No."

Reno shrugged. "Well, you were so helpful with the first bet, I figured it was worth a shot."

Rufus sat up, returning the chair to its original position before standing. He slipped the used condom off, fastening his pants, and disposed of it. "I need a shower." He headed for the door. "Feel free to come and keep me... company some other time."

The offer surprised Reno, but he recovered quickly. "Of course," he replied. "I wouldn't want you to overwork yourself."

The door shut behind Rufus, and Reno set about getting dressed – minus his shirt, which was now quite unwearable. He wondered if Cass and Rude were still playing.

He couldn't wait to tell Rod that he'd won the bet. And maybe he'd see if he couldn't get Rod to bet against it ever happening again.


End file.
